


Day 7: Kindness

by GemmaRose



Series: Week of Corazón [7]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 07:02:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7498707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three years into his penance as a guardian angel, Rocinante is drawn to help a teenage boy with mottled skin and golden eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Day 7: Kindness

Rocinante touched down in the icy alleyway, and as soon as his weight was on his feet they shot out from under him. He landed on his face, and groaned as he pushed himself up. Winter was when his aid was most desperately needed, but he really hated working when there was ice on the ground. With his balance, it meant either skidding and falling over every few steps or exerting a frankly unbelievable amount of energy. Thankfully, he’d fallen down right next to the boy who needed his help, so instead of standing back up Rocinante just sat on the ground at the kid’s side.

The boy looked, well, bad. His thin face was decorated with bruises, only some from exhaustion, and his pants were far too short. He shivered in his sleep, gangly limbs curling in closer to his body, and Rocinante removed his feather jacket from his shoulders. It wasn’t much, but he could make it tangible enough to keep some of the chill off of the boy. He brushed the boy’s hair off his face, and grimaced at the information his angel sense fed him. The kid was sixteen years old and on the bad side of a pirate crew. Roci carded his hand through the boy’s hair again, and this time paid attention to the feel of it. Oily, grimy, matted with blood. The boy needed a hot meal, a shower, and a place to stay. He needed someone to take care of him, keep him on the right path, make sure he grew up into a good man.

As dawn approached, Rocinante was able to make out more details. His young charge’s hoodie was threadbare, bare elbows peeking through and cuffs worn ragged despite being halfway up his forearms. His skin was blotchy under the blood and bruises, rich brown in some places and pale as Roci’s in others. His hair was in desperate need of a trim, and the bruises under his eyes were truly awful even after a full night of sleep. But most heart-wrenching of all were the tear tracks evident on the boy’s face. He’d been crying silently in his sleep, This one was going to be difficult, Rocinante could already tell.

When the boy began to stir, Rocinante let his coat fade back to intangibility before taking it back and draping it over his shoulders. The kid sat up with a shiver and a yawn, and looked around warily before grabbing the small bag which had served as his pillow overnight. He slung the bag over one shoulder with the ease of someone who’d been doing it his whole life, and Rocinante carefully stood up as his charge did. The ice on the ground had melted a bit with the first rays of sun, and with a wall to rest his hand on he managed to avoid falling over due to what remained. The boy took a deep breath, winced, and lifted his arms in a stretch. One fell down to his side afterwards, the other came to rest on his head.

The boy looked confused for a second, as if he’d been expecting to feel something other than hair, then shook his head and bent over to pick up a squashed piece of fabric from the ground. It must’ve been under his bag over night, presumably to keep the blood off. The boy smiled slightly, and shook the fabric out with an easy flick of his wrist.

If Rocinante had still possessed a beating heart, it would’ve stopped then and there as the crumpled fabric popped back into shape. It was a hat, dirtier and more batter than when he last saw it but unmistakable nonetheless. It settled easily over filthy dark hair, the blueness of the locks lost under grime and blood, and sharp, piercing gold eyes scanned the alley again before Trafalgar Law stepped out into the street. Rocinante followed him numbly, his mind reeling from the simple fact that Law needed his help. Law, brilliant and resourceful and free, needed an angel’s guidance.

In the light of day, Roci could see Law’s injuries far more clearly. His clothes were ripped in multiple places, bandages or small scars showing through every hole, and the pale spots were like shrunken, lightly pigmented versions of his Amber Lead Poisoning marks. “What happened to you?” he murmured, ghosting his fingers over Law’s cheek.

Law shuffled right past a weapons shop, and Rocinante felt a tug on his angel sense. This store was important somehow. He tapped Law on the shoulder, and Law’s head turned towards the window. There were a number of swords and guns on display, including a very nice looking tanto and a nodachi which was labelled as cursed. A smile spread across Law’s face, and Rocinante shuddered. That wasn’t the smile of the sweet little boy he’d given his life for. That was the smirk of a pirate with a plan that no Marine, present or former, would ever approve of.

“Room.” Law muttered, holding his right hand out, palm up and open. A blue bubble expanded from the space over his palm, and Rocinante’s brow furrowed. “Shambles.” he flicked his fingers, and suddenly the swords were replaced with a pair of paperclips. Law pulled the bladed weapons close to his body, and flicked his fingers the opposite way. Just like that, he was gone and the only thing in his place was gravel.

“The fuck?” Roci yelped, looking around. That could only be a result of Law’s devil fruit power, but how had he done it?

His angel sense pulled between his shoulder blades, not like he was done but like he needed to go up, and Rocinante leapt up onto the shop’s flat roof. Its flat, gravel-topped roof, where Law was sprawled on his back, thin chest heaving like he’d just run a marathon. Rocinante flopped down next to him, and couldn’t quite help the smile that spread across his face. “The perfect crime.” he mused aloud, and Law chuckled as if he’d heard.

“Now I just gotta sell them.” Law said, curling his hands over the two sheaths. His breathing was already slowing down, but his mouth had twisted into a smile that was much closer to the one Rocinante remembered.

“Maybe keep one.” Roci suggested, sitting up and crossing his legs. “You need a way to defend yourself.”

“Then again.” Law said slowly, lifting the nodachi and sliding it out of its sheath an inch or two to examine the blade. “I could kick some serious ass with this.”

“Of course you’d pick the cursed one.” Rocinante sighed, dragging a hand through his hair.

Law didn’t react, just slid the cursed sword back into its black sheath and sat up. The knife went through one of his belt loops, while the nodachi went over his shoulder, and Rocinante watched as Law stepped off the edge of the building without hesitation. There was a muffled crash from below, and Roci grinned at the sight of Law climbing out of a dumpster. Resourceful as always.

He tailed Law to a pawn shop on the other side of town, and watched with a small smile as Law got almost store price for the knife and walked out with a wad of cash tucked in one of his ragged hoodie pockets. At the end of the day Law had new clothes that almost all fit, the exception being his new hoodie which was oversized and undeniably hideous, and had gotten a room to stay in for the night. But Rocinante still didn’t feel that tug of being called to help another child. He sighed, and leaned back against the end of Law’s booth in the little diner he’d gone to for dinner.

His angel sense had gotten much sharper since he started, and now he could simply will himself into full intangibility and let it pull him towards where he needed to be. He came to a stop outside a nondescript building with an odd symbol over the door, and cocked his head to the side slightly. Was he supposed to lead Law here? It didn’t feel like a place he wanted to bring anyone to, let alone Law.

The door flew open with a bang, the sound echoing in the empty street, and Rocinante jumped as a massive pale man came barrelling out, followed by several taller men yelling angrily. At a second glance, he realized that the huge burly man was in fact a bipedal polar bear wearing a pair of pale jeans. Huh, that was weird. They were close to the Grand Line, though, so he- it?- was probably from there. Most importantly, though, this bear was what his angel sense was directing him towards. He had to make sure it met Law.

Flight was a pain, but it was infinitely better than running and taking the chance of losing sight of the bear. So Rocinante flew, coat billowing behind him, and guided the bear back towards Law. As they approached, Rocinante flew forward and skidded to a halt in front of Law. Law who was fending off three swordsmen with his one new sword, skinny arms and narrow shoulders shaking with each blow he parried. The bear, who had managed to gain a block or two on his pursuers with some help from Rocinante, skidded into the alley Law was fighting in and promptly bowled into Law’s attackers. It looked up, and Rocinante’s chest tightened painfully at the frightened expression on its face.

“Help.” it squeaked, and Law’s golden eyes went wide.

“Your hoodie.” Rocinante said, and Law yanked it off over his head.

“Put this on, and keep down.” he hissed, holding the jacket out. The bear had it on in three seconds flat, and fell on its face without hesitation just moments before its pursuers arrived.

“Have you seen a bear?” one of them yelled at Law.

“He went that way!” Law yelled, sounding very young and very scared at he pointed down the alley and slightly back the way the bear had come from. The men kept running, and when they were out of sight he tugged the hood off of the bear’s head. “Why’re they after you?” he asked, sitting back on his heels as the bear pushed itself up to kneel.

“They wanted to sell me.” it said, wiping dirt from its white-furred face. “My name’s Bepo. Thank you for saving me.” it smiled, holding out a paw.

“Law.” Law grinned, accepting the bear’s paw and shaking it. The bear started getting to its feet, and Rocinante laid a hand on Law’s shoulder.

“Friends.” he said quietly, giving Law’s shoulder a squeeze.

“You could join my crew.” Law said, managing to sound casual. “I’ll make sure nobody tries to sell you ever again.”

“Really?” Bepo smiled, and Rocinante felt the tell-tale tug between his shoulder blades.

“Of course.” Law smiled, bright and honest, and Rocinante’s face split with a smile. He usually helped boys find a place off the streets, away from those who would hurt them, but that wasn’t what Law needed. Law had spent too long as a pirate to find a home on land. He didn’t need four walls and a roof, didn’t need somebody to care for him. He needed someone to care for, someone to remind him to be kind when a life of crime would otherwise turn him cruel. Bepo would be that for him, would be the one to make sure Law never truly forgot how to smile freely, and Rocinante was sure the bear man would do a good job of it.


End file.
